


The Four Seasons

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, side soonseok - Freeform, side verkwan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: Days. Wonwoo had waited days and it still said the same thing. 00:00:00.Or, in which their timers run out and they haven't met yet.





	The Four Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> \- symbolizes a time skip  
> * symbolizes a pov change
> 
> also this is lowkey based on the alone shorts even though i'm like a year late lmao rip  
> i'm probably going to rewrite this better because i hate it but anyways enjoy !

**_WINTER_ **

 

Days. Wonwoo had waited days and it still said the same thing. _00:00:00_. The stupid timer had run out and he was still alone. His friend had said that maybe there was a mistake. As if the universe could make a mistake like that. The answer was simple, really. Wonwoo didn’t have a soulmate. He didn’t think that it would take as much of a toll on him as it had.

Wonwoo hadn’t left the house in more than five days. He hadn’t showered in what felt like forever. He hadn’t eaten anything worth counting as proper food; living off of shitty microwave meals and whatever else he could force his tired body to put together, which wasn’t much. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to pick up a pen and write— his entire body freezing at the the thought of moving to anywhere that wasn’t his bed or the couch. He couldn’t do anything, and it was all because of that goddamn timer on his wrist.

It wasn’t an easy thing to come to terms with; the harsh truth that he would be alone for the rest of his life. That he would never find someone to hold him, _to love him_. Wonwoo was alone and there was nothing he could do about it.

He checked his phone. Ten missed calls and twenty-seven text messages. He didn’t bat an eyelash at them, simply shoving his phone back into his pocket and leaning back against the window, watching the cold snow flutter down from the grey sky. He let his eyes fall closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones as a breath left his lips; thick and heavy with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He opened his eyes after a minute or so, leaning forward and grabbing the remote to the television.

It was all the same; nothing that he held any interest in. The news, telling a story of how a teenager had gone missing; the music channel, playing some rap music video with too many flashing lights and too many naked women; and everything else, playing the same reruns of the same shows. Wonwoo left the TV on some channel playing a documentary about the desert and let his eyes fall closed once more.

 

*

 

Mingyu ran his fingers over it again; the slightly raised numbers _00:00:00_ on his wrist. The timer had run out a some few days ago— he hadn’t bothered to keep count of how many had passed. It didn’t matter anyway, because the numbers weren’t going to restart all over again, and his soulmate definitely wasn’t going to pop in out of nowhere, because he didn’t have one. The timer had run out and he was still alone.

It was fine, really. At least, he told himself that, but really it had taken a bigger number on him than he’d expected it would. Though, through years of repression and hiding things, it didn’t even occur to him that he was that upset about it. It remained that way for a while, until it hit him that he wasn’t going to have someone to spend the rest of his life with.

When Mingyu’s timer had first gone out and his soulmate didn’t show up, he shrugged it off like it was nothing; telling himself _whatever, fuck you too, world_ . But then he realized that, no, _no_ , _no_ , _no_ , this was bigger than he thought it was.

He tried not to acknowledge it too much, filled his days by drawing and mindlessly tapping at that stupid piano that he’d bought and never learned how to play, by sitting and reading, by watching the minutes go by and wandering the halls of his too-big house. He had nothing better to do, after all. Even though he had all of those distractions, the fact that he would always be the odd one out; the one lacking what everyone else had was still gnawing at the back of his brain. His friends tried to contact him, but he’d turned his phone off and tucked it into the drawer by his bed, right behind the case for the glasses he never wore and the candies he never ate. That was one distraction Mingyu _didn’t_ need.

 

*

 

Soonyoung showed up to Wonwoo’s house at three fifty-seven on a Thursday afternoon, eleven days after he’d gone off the maps. Wonwoo was reluctant to open the door at first, the filth and stench he carried enough to scare anyone within a twenty mile radius away, and he was sure he didn’t look any better either. He had lost weight visibly, even though he was lithe to begin with, his ribs and hips and collar bones poked at his skin more noticeably than they used to, and his face was more hollowed out. Truthfully, he had seen some better days.  

“You stink,” Soonyoung said as soon as the door opened. If he had felt better (physically and mentally), Wonwoo would have rolled his eyes and shot some sarcastic comment at Soonyoung, but he felt like shit, so he didn’t. Wonwoo blinked at Soonyoung. “Can I come in?”

Wonwoo nodded at him, and he let Soonyoung in. Instantly, the elder shucked off his coat and began to pick up the wrappers from all of the small snacks that Wonwoo had managed to pick through the last couple of days. He disposed of all of the wrappers and packets he could find, and turned to face Wonwoo after discarding them in the overflowing trash bin.

“Is this all you’ve eaten in the last few days?” Wonwoo remained silent, staring down at his hands and picking at his nails. Soonyoung gave way to a sigh. Wonwoo couldn’t so much as look at him. “Are you okay, Wonwoo?”

 _I’m fine_ , Wonwoo wanted to say. _Fucking fine and dandy_. But he didn’t. There was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t seem to force the words out. Another sigh from Soonyoung.

“You look like a skeleton, or something. I’m going to order you some food. But first, you’re having a goddamn shower. I’m surprised your clothes don’t stand on their own.” Wonwoo couldn’t find it in himself to laugh at what Soonyoung had said, at what in any other circumstance would have been one of those Soonyoung-esque things that had everyone in stitches. He couldn’t find it in himself to even force a smile. His face remained completely blank.

“Okay?” Soonyoung asked. “Scratch that. You have no choice. I will bathe and force feed you if I have to, Wonwoo.” He didn’t doubt Soonyoung.

“Okay.” His voice was quiet and scratchy from not being used in a few days, but it didn’t matter. Soonyoung was just glad that he got something more than the involuntary swaying of Wonwoo’s small frame.

“You should probably shave while you’re at it. I mean, unless you like that scruff you have going on right now.”

Wonwoo nodded. It was a just barely visible tilt of his head, but a nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

Soonyoung didn’t follow him to the bathroom. Wonwoo turned on the water, heating it to whatever temperature felt right and carefully changing the the shower head to the softest setting. He then stripped himself of his too-big sweater and too-loose pants, raking his eyes over himself in the mirror. Soonyoung was right; he did need to eat.

Wonwoo ran a shaking finger over where his ribs protruded and prodded against his pale skin, the bones bumpy under his hand. He stared for another second or two before giving way to a sigh, pulling back the shower curtain and stepping in, ducking his head and letting the hot water consume him.

 

*

 

It took another few days, but Mingyu finally turned his phone back on. It nearly crashed with the amount of missed calls and text notifications that flooded through, but he managed to get into it and look through his texts. Fifty-three unread texts. Yeesh.

 **_Hansol_ ** : _hyung_

 _are you dead_  
_are you okay_  
_can you answer me_  
_ive called you so much but im worried_  
_i know that you’re upset_  
please answer

Jesus, that was just the start of them.

 **_Junhui_ ** : _are you feeling okay?_  
_I know that you probably feel like shit_  
_We could go get some food? Like ramen or something? And talk about it?_  
_If you want??_  
Call me when you can xx

God, Mingyu was _not_ ready to schedule a ramen date with Junhui, so he decided to respond to Hansol first, responding with a eleven-day-late _I’m fine_. As soon as he hit send the phone rang.

“I thought you died,” Hansol’s voice came through rushed and breathy on the other end. Mingyu didn’t know how exactly to respond to it.

“Nope,” he deadpanned, holding his phone with his shoulder and beginning to pick at his overgrown nails. “Still alive. I think.” Mingyu nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really fine? Or are you doing that thing that you do?” What was Hansol on about? Mingyu definitely didn’t do a thing.

“What thing? I don’t do a thing,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. Hansol sighed from the other end of the line.

“Yes you do. You do a thing where you repress how you actually feel and tell people you’re fine when really, you’re not.” Okay, maybe Mingyu did do a thing, but it didn’t apply to this situation at all. Not at all.

“So what if I do a thing? I’m really fine.”

“Really?” Hansol asked. Mingyu could tell he was making a skeptical face. “You’re fine?”

“Yes,” Mingyu seethed through his teeth. This is exactly why he didn’t want to turn his phone back on.

“When was the last time you showered? Or went grocery shopping? You’ve been MIA for at least a week. You’ve got to have run out of proper food by now.”

Mingyu couldn’t actually remember the last time he did either of those two things. The only food he had in his fridge was leftover and probably mouldy kimbap that he’d gotten on Monday. It was well past a week old now. Maybe he was less fine than he said he was.

“Can you stop hounding me? You’re not my mother. I’m older than you,” Mingyu said, figuring that ignoring Hansol’s question was better than answering it truthfully.

“Your age has nothing to do with the fact that I care about your health and wellbeing, hyung.” Mingyu sighed. He hated when Hansol was right. “Eat something. Take a shower. I’ll be over tomorrow to take you to the grocery store, and you can’t do anything about it, okay?”

“Can you even drive?”

Hansol sighed again. “Stop changing the subject.”

Mingyu gave a huff, running a hand through his greasy and tangled hair. He scowled. He did need a shower. “Fine,” he said.

“Good.” Hansol sounded pleased with himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow at four.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu muttered. “See you.”

 

*

 

Soonyoung had stayed the night at Wonwoo’s, making sure that he ate and ate _well_ (Wonwoo felt sick after how much Sonyoung had made him scarf down). He had taken the couch, even though Wonwoo had made it clear that it would have been perfectly fine if he were to sleep in Wonwoo’s bed with him, but Soonyoung had insisted that the couch was good enough for him. Wonwoo guessed that it was probably just Soonyoung being Soonyoung.

“I’m taking you to the grocery store today,” Soonyoung had said after intently watching Wonwoo eat a bowl of cereal and a chocolate chip granola bar, making sure that he ate every last bite. “I’ve seen your cupboards. I’m surprised that you haven’t died yet, because there’s literally nothing in there except for those granola bars and some soup stock. I can’t believe that your milk hasn’t expired yet either.”

Wonwoo figured there was no point in trying to fight him on this, seeing as he did need food, and Soonyoung was, well, _Soonyoung_ , and he wouldn’t _allow_ Wonwoo to say no to him, so he nodded his head. “Okay,” he said. His voice was still small and timid, _scared_ and unwilling to give more than it needed to. D

“Look, Wonwoo.” God, here it comes, the inevitable _I know that this is hard_ , monologue that Wonwoo realized some time yesterday would come soon enough, and here it was. “I get that this is rough for you, I get that. But, you’ve got to look on the bright side of things.” There it was, all unaware and blundering. Soonyoung didn’t get it. He had someone waiting for him. Wonwoo didn’t.

“Look on the bright side of what?” Wonwoo asked, louder than any of the short words he’d uttered last night. “The bright side of being alone for the rest of your life and watching your friends happily live theirs with someone else?” Soonyoung was shocked to silence by the words that left Wonwoo, his tone of voice, his _expression_. Wonwoo looked pissed off and melancholy all at once.

“Of watching everybody else live their happily ever after with the person of their dreams— their _soulmate_ , while I have to sit off to the side by myself because I’m the odd one out? Because I don’t have one?” he continued, leaning forward on the table as he stared at Soonyoung. “There is no bright side to that, hyung. I’m sorry to say it.”

It took a second before Soonyoung spoke up. “I’m sorry,” he said. It sounded sincere. It was quiet for another moment as Wonwoo nodded at him. It took another second before Soonyoung spoke up once more. “Go get dressed,” he ordered gently, nodding in the general direction of Wonwoo’s bedroom. “It’s almost four now. We should probably go before all of the Grandmas get to the grocery shop.”

Wonwoo laughed a little bit. It was only half real. More a scoff than anything. “Okay,” he said. Wonwoo left to get changed.

 

*

 

It was at precisely four o’clock that there was a knock at Mingyu’s door. It was loud, and startled him out of his lax state. With a drawn out groan, Mingyu traipsed to the front hall and heaved the heavy oak door open.

“I didn’t think you’d be here this early,” Mingyu said as soon as he laid eyes on Hansol. The younger was slouched slightly, with his weight on one leg and his arms crossed over his heavy coat-clad chest. He had his black hair brushed down to cover his forehead and had the hood of a sweatshirt pulled over his head. Mingyu supposed he looked pretty good, then again, Hansol always looked good.

“I said four, did I not?” Hansol was never on time. _Ever_.

“It’s just…out of character for you to be here this…on time, I guess.” Mingyu ran a hand through his dark hair, freshly washed and not nearly as greasy looking and feeling as before, and pulled on a pair of combat boots and threw on a top coat.

“What’s with the dress shirt?” Hansol asked as he led Mingyu to the car, where he hopped in the front seat. Mingyu climbed in next to him and clicked his seatbelt into place. He’s instinctively looked down to the strip of white and blue pinstriped material peeking out from where the fronts of his coat didn’t meet.

“Nothing. I just- it was the first thing I saw.” That wasn’t a complete lie. It was the first thing he saw that he felt comfortable wearing out. “You _can_ drive, right?”

“How do you think I got over here, hyung? Of course I can drive. I’m twenty-one, not fifteen.”

Mingyu sighed. “Okay,” he mumbled, and leaned his head against the window. He watched his house grow smaller and smaller the further that Hansol drove away from it, and already, he wished he was at home.

 

*

 

Wonwoo believed that the grocery store was one of his least favourite places to be. It was filled with adults who knew more about being an adult than he did, who judged him for being unaware of what being an adult entailed, and elderly people that judged his skinny frame and too-pretty face. And the pricing on the food was ridiculous. Who the hell wanted to pay seven thousand won for a head of broccoli? Wonwoo sure didn’t. Not to mention that Wonwoo didn’t have seven thousand won to spend on a head of broccoli, because who really needed broccoli anyways? Produce was overpriced and overrated.

“Can you stop contemplating whether or not to buy the damn broccoli and tell me what kind of milk you need?” Soonyoung snapped, pulling Wonwoo out of his, well, whatever state he was just in. Reluctantly, Wonwoo put the two heads of broccoli he had (one organic and one normal, pesticide drenched and genetically modified) back on their display, looking down to Soonyoung with tired eyes.

“Oh,” Wonwoo said, and he pursed his lips. “Fat free.”

“Go get whatever else you need while I grab that, okay?” Soonyoung turned on his heel, though before walking away he paused and looked over his shoulder. “And don’t bother with the broccoli. I have some at home that you can have.” Soonyoung left him there then, standing in the produce section all alone, looking completely disoriented- _feeling_ completely disoriented while being surrounded by families and single parents and students alike, all seemingly staring at Wonwoo. Gawking at him. Judging him. It was as if they knew. As if they knew his dirty secret. As if they knew was was wrong with him.

God, Wonwoo needed to go. Without much thinking, he ran. Basket in hand, Wonwoo ran and ran. He was sure that all eyes were on him now, he was sure of it, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get what he needed and go, back to his home. Back to isolation. Wonwoo ran until he was in the snack aisle, ran until he- _oh_ , Wonwoo had run into something. _Someone_.

It was evident that he had run into someone when he was sent falling to the floor, knocking his basket out of hand and nearly causing a display to topple over. The other person fell too. Wonwoo cursed. This was the most embarrassing day of his entire life.

“Fuck, I’m sorry- _ah_ .” Wonwoo cut himself off when there was a burning on his wrist. It was a searing sort of white hot pain that only lasted about a second, but it was there and it was apparent and it _hurt_ . “What the fuck is _that_ ,” he spat, and pushed up his sleeve.

Oh, god.

His timer was _gone_.

In its place was a bird, a raven, black with its wings spread far and its head tilted to what would be the sky. Oh, _god_ . Wonwoo looked at the boy whom he had sent tumbling down. He was holding his wrist too. _Oh, god_. Did this mean…?

“Are you…? What the fuck just happened.” Wonwoo couldn’t  grasp what the hell was going on right now. His timer had run out a week and a half ago, surely that meant that he was without a soulmate. There was no other explanation. The world couldn’t fuck up _that_ bad.

“You can feel that too, right?” The boy’s voice was deep and soft, like crushed velvet. That was another thing. He was a _boy_ . Wonwoo didn’t have a problem with this, but he had never felt any attraction to boys in his entire life. Come to think of it, Wonwoo didn’t really feel any attraction to _anyone_ . He never had. He never developed crushes like the rest of the kids at school. Maybe something _was_ wrong with him.

“What the fuck is going on.” That seemed to be the only sentence that Wonwoo could force out. “Are you my…?”

“I don’t know?” The boy had phrased it like a question. He looked just about as confused as Wonwoo was. “My timer _ran out_ ,” the boy said.

“So did mine,” Wonwoo said. The boy’s eyes widened. “A week and a half ago.”

“Mine ran out a week and a half ago, too.” It was then that Wonwoo noticed another boy stood behind the one on the ground, and he looked at him as if he would be the one to give some clarification.

“Uh, Mingyu-hyung? Yeah, I’m gonna go look for those chips you like now.” The boy ran off after that, leaving Wonwoo and the other boy, Mingyu, he supposed, alone.

“Fucker,” Mingyu cursed under his breath, but Wonwoo still heard it. “Are we…?”

“I guess so,” Wonwoo said plainly. He had absolutely no idea how to feel about this whole thing. “Do you have a…?” He motioned to the raven on his wrist. Mingyu pushed up the sleeve of his blue striped button down and on his wrist was the same as Wonwoo had, save for the direction the bird’s head was turned.

“I’m Mingyu,” he said, and he stood up, offering a hand to Wonwoo, who reluctantly took it and stood as well.

“I’m Wonwoo,” he responded quietly, brushing the dust off of the grey sweatpants he was sporting. There was something bubbling in Wonwoo’s chest; it was warm, and airy and it made him feel light. _It was happiness_. He was happy, genuinely, for the first time in thirteen days.

“So,” Mingyu started, looking up to the ceiling, as if to find the right words to say. “Your timer ran out a week and a half ago?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo deadpanned. “Yours too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu echoed with a nod. “The world must really hate us.”

“Maybe,” Wonwoo said, shrugging his shoulders. “Or, maybe…maybe...” he trailed off, trying to think of a positive, but he couldn’t. “Yeah, the world hates us.”

“I’m glad that you’re at least as pessimistic as me,” said Mingyu, who looked to Wonwoo the opposite of that.

“Nihilistic, actually. Nothing matters to me. Except for my timer running out, oddly enough. It sent a whole new wave of existentialism and caring.”

There was a second of silence, but then Mingyu was looking at him. Really looking at him. “Wonwoo,” Mingyu said blankly, staring Wonwoo right in the eyes. “I think that maybe the world didn’t fuck up as bad as we may have thought.”

 

**_SPRING_ **

 

Trying to create a strong emotional bond with the person the world deemed as your soulmate was a lot harder than Wonwoo expected it to be. They scheduled coffee dates and movie nights, but it’s been two months and they haven’t kissed once, save for the chaste peck that Mingyu planted on Wonwoo’s cheek a few days back.

It didn’t help that Wonwoo had trouble putting his trust in people, and the added stress of Mingyu being his soulmate didn’t add to it either. Mingyu had stayed over a few times; he slept in Wonwoo’s bed with him once after they’d watched a horror movie that had scared Wonwoo shitless. Wonwoo had stayed over at Mingyu’s house once too, but Mingyu had sensed that Wonwoo was uncomfortable, so he made sure they slept with a blanket barrier. Wonwoo still ended up clinging to Mingyu in the middle of the night.

He liked Mingyu, he really did, but it was hard for him. Wonwoo didn’t know how to let people in. Maybe he was just always overthinking things, with a chronic fear of rejection, or maybe he was just destined to push people away. Either way, Wonwoo was trying, really trying.

“So have you two…has anything happened between you two?” Soonyoung asked him over some coffee in his living room one late afternoon. The sun was hidden behind clouds and the room was darkened, giving off some sort of mood that Wonwoo found comfort in. Wonwoo was curled in a ball on the couch next to him, nursing a black coffee and staring at him over the rim of his burgundy mug.

“Between me and who?” Clearly, Wonwoo knew who Soonyoung was talking about, but what he didn’t know was what the hell Soonyoung was getting at.

“You and Mingyu, obviously. Has anything happened with you yet?” Wonwoo still didn’t know what Soonyoung was implying, but he had a pretty good idea, and he didn’t like it.

“Anything like _what_?” Wonwoo asked him, furrowing his eyebrows in some kind of half-scowl-half-grimace.

“Not like that, _jesus_. I mean like, have you guys confessed or something?”

Wonwoo’s expression turned confused. “Confessed to what?”

“Liking each other,” Soonyoung explained. Wonwoo raised his eyebrows. “You _do_ like him, right?”

“Of course I like him,” Wonwoo said. He ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his bitter coffee before speaking up again. “I just…” Wonwoo trailed off with a sigh.

“You just what?” Soonyoung asked.

“I just…I don’t know how I feel,” Wonwoo started, his eyes cast down to a scuff in the faux wooden floorboards. “I like him, of course I do, but I can’t open up to him. Like, I trust him, but at the same time I don’t. I don’t know if it’ll work or if I’ll mess it up and it’s stressing me out.”

Soonyoung gave him the most skeptical face he’d seen in awhile. “Wonwoo. He’s your _soulmate_. The world would not have put you two together if you weren’t good for each other. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Wonwoo took in the information, nodding his head after a moment. Soonyoung was right; he needed to think less of the whole situation. Mingyu was his soulmate. The world had wanted them to be together, or however it went. That meant something, did it not?

“Don’t overthink the situation. If you like him, and he likes you, which I’m positive he does, it’ll work out. Just go with the flow, okay?

Wonwoo nodded. “Okay,” he said, “go with the flow.”

 

-

 

'Going with the flow' seemed to be harder than it sounded when Soonyoung had said it two days ago. It wasn’t that Mingyu had _tried_ anything on him, unless you call making cup noodles and sitting on either end of the love seat ‘trying something.’ It was just a bit...weird for him to act couply with Mingyu. (Not that he was. Wonwoo was acting in the least romantic fashion that either of them had ever seen.)

Wonwoo ended up scooting a bit closer to Mingyu halfway through the shitty film. That was a step, right? Mingyu didn’t really seem to notice. If Wonwoo was paying closer attention, he’s see that Mingyu’s gaze on the television had faltered and he had worried his lip between his teeth.

There was a particularly frightening scene in the particularly not frightening horror film that had Wonwoo curling into Mingyu’s side, burying his face into Mingyu’s chest to hide himself from the horrifying image on screen. With caution, Mingyu wrapped a delicate arm around Wonwoo’s lithe frame, drawing him in closer.

Oddly enough, this position didn’t seem strange or uncomfortable for them. The opposite, really. Wonwoo felt comfortable in Mingyu’s strong arms, shielding him from the fictitious demon on the television. He felt a sense of _protection_.

“It’s over if you want to look now.” Mingyu’s voice came in soft and calm, as if not to startle Wonwoo, who carefully lifted his head from Mingyu’s chest. “Why do you always want to watch horror movies if they scare you so much?”

“This one wasn’t supposed to be scary!” Wonwoo insisted, furrowing his eyebrows and giving a huff.

“Yet here you are, curled up on top of me,” Mingyu chided jokingly. A strand of his charcoal hair fell down across his forehead. Wonwoo couldn’t help but try and ignore the itching in his fingers to tuck it behind his ear.

“Are you complaining?” Wonwoo asked, cocking his head to the side. He was on top of Mingyu at this point, with his legs draped over Mingyu’s lap and their faces so close together that Wonwoo could feel his breath fanning across his cheeks.

“No,” Mingyu said curtly. His voice was quiet. Wonwoo looked at him then, really looked at him, and he was faced with an all new appreciation for Mingyu. In only a few seconds, Wonwoo studied Mingyu’s face; the droop of his tired eyes, his round nose, the curve of his lips and his crooked bottom teeth. Wonwoo had never realized how _gorgeous_ Mingyu really was.

“I’m going to ask you something, and you have every right to say no, okay?” Mingyu’s voice was still quiet, still calm, still not wanting to break the thick intimacy in the air. Wonwoo nodded his head slowly, tentatively, unsure of what was going to come from Mingyu. “Can I kiss you?”

Wonwoo paused a moment, thinking. Did he want to kiss Mingyu? Yes. That was the easy answer. Did he want it to happen now? The answer to that was on a different plane completely. Wonwoo had never kissed anyone before, besides Soonyoung on a drunken dare, and he hated that. Mingyu wasn’t Soonyoung though. Mingyu was Mingyu, and Wonwoo liked him a lot differently than he liked Soonyoung.

“You can say no,” Mingyu reiterated, looking the slightest bit scared of Wonwoo’s delayed reaction. He was still so close to Wonwoo, his breath, coming quicker now, was still fanning across Wonwoo’s pinkened cheeks. Wonwoo was still in his lap with his hand on Mingyu’s chest. It took another second for Wonwoo to make up his mind.

“Yes,” he said. His mouth was talking before his brain had finished thinking it through.

Mingyu leaned forward then, tilting his head and pressing his lips softly against Wonwoo’s. It was brief, something to test the waters, to make sure Wonwoo was really okay, but then Wonwoo was pulling him back in and they were _kissing_. Mingyu’s lips were soft against Wonwoo’s, welcoming, causing a sense of overwhelming elation to blossom in his chest. It was different, but a good different. Wonwoo could get used to doing this.

Mingyu was absolutely drowned in Wonwoo, with Wonwoo in his lap and his arms around Wonwoo’s waist, keeping him close, his lips, moving slowly, unhurriedly against Wonwoo’s. He tuned out the background noise, tuned out everything except for Wonwoo, allowing himself to be completely surrounded by the elder.

Mingyu pulled back after a moment, not wanting to let himself get carried away, and grinned at Wonwoo. He grinned back, a blush dark against his skin, before he pressed his face to Mingyu’s chest once more.

They stayed there for a while, disregarding the fact that the film had finished, and that it was well past one in the morning. The two didn’t speak about what had happened between them. They didn’t need to. Wonwoo ended up falling asleep on top of Mingyu, and Mingyu ended up carrying him to his bedroom, laying him down and tucking him in before crawling next to him.

In his sleep, Wonwoo curled into Mingyu, nuzzling into Mingyu’s chest and draping an arm over him, causing a feeling of utter adoration to wash over the younger. Not for the first time, not even close, Mingyu had come to realize how lucky he really was.

 

-

 

Things had gotten better after that, per se. Wonwoo was more comfortable around Mingyu now; he didn’t shy away from his stare or flinch back from his touches, he didn’t even feel like he had to worry about what he said around Mingyu anymore. Maybe it was the fact that he had let himself become so vulnerable when they had kissed a few weeks back. Maybe it was the kiss itself that did it, that made Wonwoo feel a new, foreign sense of comfort. Or maybe, maybe it was just Mingyu. Wonderful, caring, and understanding Mingyu.

When Wonwoo woke up all alone in his bed, draped in one of Mingyu’s oversized sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that fit Mingyu snuggly, but fell down on Wonwoo’s hips, he was the slightest bit confused. He patted the empty spot beside him, and it was still warm, as if Mingyu had just recently left. Wonwoo raised his head tiredly, blinking to wake himself a bit more before he checked the pillow- the bedside table, but no note, no nothing.

Rational thoughts began flooding in, and he realized that Mingyu wouldn’t just up and leave without so much as a note. Suddenly, a muted whistle came from the kitchen. Wonwoo rubbed at his eyes tiredly and rose from the bed, trudging over to his closet and pulling out a pair of blue jeans, switching Mingyu’s track pants for those instead. He decided to keep the sweatshirt on, simply for the fact that it was cold in his apartment and he liked the scent of Mingyu’s cologne.

Slowly, Wonwoo shuffled out into the hallway, something sweet instantly flooding his senses.

“Gyu?” he called, poking his head into the kitchen, coming face to face with a grinning, apron-clad Mingyu.

“Good morning,” he hummed, holding out a plate for Wonwoo. “I knew that you had work, and you never seem to eat, so I made you a sweet egg sandwich and some tea in a travel mug.” Wonwoo felt his heart flutter in his chest, and he blushed visibly, smiling down at the sandwich.

Wonwoo had gone back to his job back at the bakery he’d worked at, after taking his two week long break, realizing that a) he’d need the money and b) _he’d need the money_. His boss had been more than happy to take him back in, because the small business needed his help and were unable to find anyone else who could roll and decorate the sweets like he did, according to the workers.

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” Wonwoo said quietly, thought he took a large bite of the sandwich as soon as he’d taken it from Mingyu’s hands.

“Nonsense,” Mingyu chided, dusting his hands on the apron and turning off the stove. “I’d rather cook for you than have you go to work hungry.”

“You’re too good,” Wonwoo hummed happily, reaching up on his tiptoes and pressing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek. “This is amazing, by the way. You’re a great cook, Gyu.” The latter blushed gently, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant sort of way.

“It’s the best I could do. You really suck at keeping your fridge stocked.”

Wonwoo shot him a playful glare. “I don’t need to stock up when I’m over at yours so frequently.” He quickly finished his sandwich and set down his plate before shuffling over to the coat rack, where he slipped on a jean jacket and a pair of Vans.

“I guess you’re right,” Mingyu sighed dramatically. “Maybe if you stay over more often I can make you a proper breakfast with real, _proper_ ingredients. I can make more than a sweet egg sandwich, you know.”

“Come over more often?” Wonwoo scoffed, “I’m over there like, four or five times a week. The next step is living with you.” Wonwoo realized as it came out of his mouth that eight am on a Tuesday was not a great time— even jokingly— to talk about moving in with Mingyu.

The two of them had a weird sort of relationship right now. There was clearly something going on, what, with the good morning kisses and cuddles on the couch, and the otherwise domestic things they were doing with each other, it was clear that there was something there that wasn’t before. They just hadn’t spoken about it, because it didn't seem much of a problem to them. The whole ‘what are we’ conversation seemed so much of a drag and so unnecessary that neither of the two wanted to take part in it-- which was okay. They were comfortable the way they were, for now, at least.

“Would you want to?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo found himself taking in a sharp breath. “Not now, obviously. But later,” he said, untying his apron. He was so nonchalant about the whole thing that it made Wonwoo feel a bit less breathless. “Like, in the future,” he added.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo told him truthfully. “I would. But you’re right. Maybe not now.” It was silent for a second. “I’ll be late if I don’t hurry up. We can talk about this later, okay?”

“Don’t forget your tea,” Mingyu grinned, and the tension Wonwoo had felt in his shoulders melted away. He took the travel mug from Mingyu’s hands, shooting a soft smile in response. “I’ll be here when you get back, probably. Unless you want me to pick you up?”

“Why don’t we go out?” Wonwoo suggested, tilting his head.

“Like a date?”

“Maybe. Depends on if you want to call it that or not.” Wonwoo grinned at him then, leaning up to press another kiss to his cheek.

“Alright, then,” Mingyu said. “I’ll meet you at four.”

 

**_SUMMER_ **

 

Sometimes he liked to look at it, the never-fading crisp black marking on his skin. It had taken him a bit to get used to it, for his eyes to not need to readjust to the dark bird, for him not to startle at the image. Once he had, he hadn’t stopped looking at it. The tattoo often distracted Wonwoo from the things he needed to accomplish daily; his part time work at the bakery and full time job he’d picked up for the paper, plus anything in between. Summer meant short sleeves, which gave him all the more excuse to ogle at the inky bird. He recurrently found himself entranced by the raven covering most of the pale skin of his forearm, so much so that Mingyu or any of the other people around him had to wave a hand in front of his face to grab his attention. They understood it, for the most part, Wonwoo could tell from the knowing smiles on their faces, but he couldn’t help himself.

The whole thing gave him a sense of purpose and a feeling of overpowering rapture that he didn’t quite have before, and he wasn’t even sure what it was that did it— the raven itself or the fact that it meant he wouldn’t be alone or that it was a constant reminder he had Mingyu with him. He was leaning towards the latter.

Mingyu, maybe even more so, felt the same way that Wonwoo did. He however, was not as fascinated by the raven as the elder was. In the beginning, it took at bit to become accustomed to, to not take him aback, but once he’d gotten used to it, it just became another part of his life. He couldn’t change it, he didn’t _want_ to change it, and while it was something he had become used to, that didn’t mean it held no meaning to him.

To Mingyu, the tattoo on his wrist held a meaning greater than he could put into words. It held him down; kept his feet grounded, even while his head was in the clouds, but also served as a sense of reassurance that overpowered everything else. The mark was a tie— to Wonwoo, to the ground, to himself. It gave Mingyu— and Wonwoo— purpose.

They loved each other like the sun loved the moon; unspoken, but surely known. Mingyu has loved Wonwoo since he woke up with Wonwoo in his arms, hair messy and disheveled and his lips parted and dried drool on his pale cheek, but still so beautiful. He’s been in love with Wonwoo since he began to notice the way his face looked less hollowed out than the first time Mingyu saw him. Mingyu’s been in love with Wonwoo since all those months ago when they shared their first proper kiss; too gentle for what it was worth, but neither of them would have had it any other way.

Mingyu had never told Wonwoo that he loved him, the three words were implicit at best, consistently heavy on his tongue when he felt like he could finally say them properly. They remained implicit, always shown but never spoken, through caring and domestic gestures, like putting little notes in his lunch bag and making him tea every morning before work, letting him vent after a long day at the office and kissing him softly before bed.

Mingyu had hardly expected Wonwoo to say it first. He said it on a night when Mingyu kissed him harder than usual, but not rough, simply with more desperation and less softness, and Wonwoo had found himself pining for Mingyu’s touch more than he ever had before. They had never gotten completely intimate with each other, even though they were some eight months into what they had, it had never come up. Sure, Mingyu had wanted it, he had wanted it for as long as he could remember, but he would respect Wonwoo no matter what, and the elder seemed to be completely uninterested in the whole thing.

So, when Wonwoo was panting, hard against Mingyu’s thigh, pleading _please, touch me, please,_ he wasn’t ashamed to say he was delighted. Enthusiastically, Mingyu had gripped him under the thin layer of fabric and slid his hand over Wonwoo to the point he was twitching on the bed, giving off the tiniest sounds of pleasure from the back of his throat. Then, shakily, Wonwoo had rasped, _make love to me_ . Mingyu was not one to deny an offer like that. With the utmost care, he stripped Wonwoo of his oversized sweater and baggy sweatpants, kissed him and praised him and took his time with Wonwoo— made him feel _loved_ . He had done as Wonwoo had asked him until he was shaking and had tears in his eyes, crying out, _I love you,_ as he spilled all over his chest. Mingyu finished not long after, collapsing beside Wonwoo with a shaky breath.

“Did you just say that because I made you come?” Mingyu had asked. There was a certain light heartedness to the whole situation, maybe there shouldn’t have been, but it didn’t matter to them in the moment.

“No,” Wonwoo told him. A hint of seriousness was in his tone, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “I love you.” It seemed different now, because there was no jokes about it, no funny punchline for Mingyu to tell, because _Wonwoo loved him._ Mingyu felt like he was suffocating. He didn’t know what to say, or do, so he kissed Wonwoo. He kissed him gently on the mouth, cupping a hand to Wonwoo’s cheek and just holding it there, as if Wonwoo would slip through his fingers like spilled water, or as if he would disappear into thin air.

Wonwoo was everything and so much more to Mingyu; he was the sunlight that shone through the window onto the sheets in the early morning, the music that kept his nerves steady, he was the air Mingyu breathed in order to survive. It hit him then, Wonwoo was the grounding; something that kept his feet firmly on the floor, not the raven on his wrist. Luckily for Mingyu, it was the same both ways.

“I love you, too.” Mingyu felt a literal weight being lifted from his chest; he could _breathe_. “I love you so much,” he said. The first, and certainly not the last.

 

**_AUTUMN_ **

 

When Mingyu had first asked him to move in, he was hesitant. He recalled a time all those months ago when he’d brought it up unthinking, how when Mingyu asked about the future he had said _eventually, but maybe not now_. But then, four or so months later Mingyu had asked again, and he had meant it that time. He didn’t do it out of spite, or malice, or something that would intentionally make Wonwoo feel uncomfortable, he asked simply out of the desire to become that much more with Wonwoo, to truly make things more concrete than the both of them knew they were.

When Mingyu had brought it up again some few weeks later, knowing that Wonwoo liked to take his time to think things over, Wonwoo was hesitant to show him the contract for the lease on his apartment he’d broken. Mingyu had just about tackled Wonwoo to the nice carpet of his living room when he had realized what the contract was for. He had kissed all over Wonwoo’s face, mumbling an _I love you_ in between each press of his lips, which had caused Wonwoo to blush profusely.

Packing up was easy, Wonwoo not having much to move and realizing his Ikea couches, bed frame, and tables weren’t going to do much good in Mingyu’s already-furnished house. The one piece of furniture he brought was his desk, only because he’d had it since he lived with his parents, and it had a little space for his typewriter. All of his other things, his clothes and more personal items, like his extensive book collection and piles and piles of pictures he’d taken over the years, conveniently only took up six boxes. After that, it was a bit of a teary eyed goodbye. Wonwoo had trouble letting go of the home he’d made for himself on his own— never extravagant, but always a place where he felt a familiar warmth that nearly nothing else could give him, and he especially had trouble saying goodbye to his neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Shin, who would treat him like their own son and offer him a smile when his own parents were too far away, and his landlady, Mrs. Yu, who liked him so much she broke the lease with no cost. It was hard for him to leave, but when he saw Mingyu and Soonyoung grinning proudly from the moving truck, it made things that little bit better.

It took a bit of getting used to at first, for the house not to feel too big and Mingyu’s king-sized bed not to make him feel like he was drowning every night. They had dedicated one of the empty spare rooms to Wonwoo and his writing tendencies, alongside Mingyu’s art making habit, making it a writing-painting and sex-against-the-wall-once room. Sometimes they would sit together in there, Wonwoo working on a piece of writing he needed to submit the following morning and Mingyu sat, not to close but not too far, sketching Wonwoo’s slouched over form, tired, but still gorgeous. Although, Mingyu would always complain about how Wonwoo’s true beauty could never be properly captured on paper, but he would try his hardest anyhow. Wonwoo wrote about Mingyu quite often. Sometimes he’d submit it and sometimes he wouldn’t, and sometimes he’d even let Mingyu read it. Only sometimes. According to Wonwoo, some things are best kept to yourself. Sometimes really means the majority of the time, because Mingyu would always pout and give Wonwoo the best puppy eyes he could muster. So, Wonwoo supposed, that rule didn’t always apply to them.

Wonwoo and Mingyu confided in each other. They told each other things that should have felt like secrets, but were as easily said as how nice the weather was. The two of them didn’t need to think before telling the other something, and it didn’t matter where, if it was sat on the window seat watching the orange-yellow-brown leaves fall from the trees, or wrapped up in the comfort of their bed, or even in the shower, it was comfortable.

Though they were wrapped up together, they still made time to see their friends and the people that they had met; Soonyoung had met his soulmate in August, a boy called Seokmin who had a heart of gold and made Soonyoung better than he was before, Wonwoo thought, and then there was Hansol, who met his just a few weeks before October, a boy called Seungkwan that made their lives a little happier than before. The often spent time together, scheduling group coffee dates and sleepovers, but Wonwoo still relished in the time the had alone.

They didn’t fight often, and only ever about stupid things like whose turn it was to get groceries or do the laundry, but they were always resolved with a gentle kiss and an _I’m sorry, love_ , from the one at fault. Perhaps that’s what made their relationship functional, because there was no such thing as a perfect relationship, at least, Wonwoo and Mingyu didn’t believe there was. There was always room for improvement, always room for something to change for the better, and this was the way they liked it.

Perfect is not human. There is no such thing as perfect, nor will there ever be, because perfect is inhumane. Every perfect thing has an imperfect flaw, at least, that’s how Wonwoo saw it. Perfect was simply a state of mind, an illusion that our brains conjure up in order to make ourselves and others feel better about things that they shouldn’t feel bad about in the first place, because perfect does not and will not ever exist. There is however, a sense of perfect that you feel in your heart when you see something that looks just right, and this is what Wonwoo felt every time that he laid eyes upon Mingyu. Their relationship would never be perfect, though it felt like it at times, it would always be nearly, but not right there. The closest thing they would get to perfect would not stand until there were twin metal bands around their fingers. Until then, not quite perfect was as good as they could get, but it was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


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